Dreams Deferred
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: He was the spoiled prince of two islands. She was the only child of a seamstress and a soldier. This is how two people from two such different worlds grew up to someday fall in love.
1. 1905 to 1907

Disclaimer: The Princess and the Frog belongs to Disney, not me.

-

-

-

_Maldonia: July, 1905_

Mira stared out of the wide open windows into the soft dark blue of the early evening sky, her narrow shouldersg heaving. "Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked.

"It's a boy, Princess, a healthy boy."

Mira leaned back into the pillows, smiling. "I gave you a son, Arturo," she said.

Arturo kissed her hand. "It doesn't matter to me," he said. "I'm just glad you're both safe."

Mira closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The waves lapped against the shore outside her open windows, making a soft soothing sound. "Can I hold him?" she asked.

The midwife carried the baby to the young princess. She held out her arms, staring wide eyed at her newborn child. "He's so small," she murmured.

"Babies usually are," the midwife said, amused.

The baby yawned and nestled placidly against his mother's shoulder. "What should we name him, Arturo?" she asked.

"We had a girl's name picked out, but we never did decide on a boy's name, did we?" Arturo said. He scratched the back of his neck. "He's the crown prince of Maldonia, so he needs a Maldonian name."

"But can't he have a name from my language too?" she asked eagerly. Mira stroked her fingers lightly across the baby's soft dark hair. "After all, he's a prince of Lilioukuala too."

"You're right," Arturo said. "We could name him after your father, if you'd like."

Mira wrinkled her nose. "Not my father," she said.

"Well, how about your grandfather, then?" Arturo suggested.

"My father's father was named Naveen," Mira said. "

"I like that," Arturo said. "And his Maldonian name can be…Donato, or Leandro, or Amando…."

"What does 'Amando' mean?" Mira interrupted.

"It's an old name," he said. "It means 'lovable'."

Mira smiled down at her baby son. "That's perfect," she said. "Naveen Amando della Isola, crown prince of Maldonia."

Arturo kissed her on the cheek. "I'll tell them to make the announcement," he said. He left the bedchamber, whistling happily.

"I can take the baby to the nursery, your highness," the maid said.

"I'd like to hold him a little while longer," Mira said.

"As you wish," the maid said, bobbing a curtsy.

Mira tugged the blanket away from the baby's face. "Hello, my little prince," she cooed. She touched Naveen's soft little hand. "Aren't you a lucky one, to be a prince of two islands. The whole world is open to you."

The dark sky outside lit up in yellows, blues, and reds. The crack of the fireworks echoed as the light reflected on the polished marble floor. The baby squinted. "Those are for you," she said. "All of Maldonia is celebrating the birth of the crown prince."

She looked towards the windows, idly watching the fireworks. Music echoed through the streets, and she tapped her toes lightly under the covers. "Everything will be different now," she murmured. "I'm not just a princess anymore. I'm a mother. Your mother."

Mira stared at the baby in her arms. "You can take him to the nursery now," she said. The maid took him; Mira settled back into the soft pillows of her bed and listened to the music drift through the open window.

-

_New Orleans: June, 1906_

"James."

"Hm?"

"She's awake."

James sat up slowly, blinking in the early morning light. "Is it my turn?" he mumbled blearily.

"I got up last time," Eudora said into her pillow.

The baby made a soft mewling noise. James stood up and rubbed his eyes as he walked over to the cradle. He smiled. "Good morning, baby girl," he said. His week-old daughter stared up at him, her golden brown eyes wide and searching. He picked her up carefully. "You're an early riser, aren't you?"

James wrapped the soft lavender blanket around the baby and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Is she hungry?" Eudora murmured.

"No, I think she just wants some attention," James said.

Eudora sat up. "She's probably fussing because she doesn't have a name yet," she said dryly.

"Come on, Dora," James grinned. "She'd have a name if you'd let me win."

"I'm not naming my daughter Mildred," Eudora said.

"It was my mother's name," he said

"And it's terrible," she retorted. She took the baby from him. "Besides, she looks like a Madeline. And we could call her Maddy for short."

James rolled his eyes. "That's a boring name," he said.

"And Mildred's not?" Eudora said skeptically.

"All right, it's boring," James said, flopping back on the bed. "But I still don't like Maddy." He propped himself up on his elbows. "What about Milly? That's a nice compromise."

"I don't think so," Eudora said.

"So what are we going to do?" James said.

Eudora smiled as the baby grabbed ahold of her finger. "Just start listing names," she said. "I'll tell you if I like them."

James scratched the back of his neck. "Rachel?" he tried.

"Too many Rachels," Eudora said.

"Alexandra?"

"Too formal."

"Annabelle?"

"Too cutesy."

"Beatrice?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Diana?"

Eudora paused.

"You like Diana?" James said.

"Sort of," Eudora said. "It's pretty."

"Yeah," James said slowly. "Diana Woodward."

Eudora made a face. "It's not quite right yet," she said. "It sounds too soft. She's so spunky. She needs a name to match her personality."

"Tiana," James said suddenly.

"What?"

"We should name her Tiana," James said. "It'd be perfect for her."

"Tiana," Eudora mused. "I like it."

"Tiana Madeline Woodward," James said.

Eudora glanced at him over her shoulder. "You'll let me name her Madeline?" she said.

"I don't like Maddy. Never said I didn't like Madeline," James grinned. He leaned over his wife's shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. "I win."

Eudora turned and kissed him soundly. "We both win," she said.

-

_Maldonia: November, 1907_

"No, no, no," Graciela said, picking up the recalcitrant two-year-old. "No, your highness, you mustn't put that in your mouth."

"Wanna," Naveen said, unperturbed.

"No," Graciela said patiently. The young nursery maid set the little prince on her hip and carried him away from the toys spread wide across the floor. "It's time for you to go to bed."

Naveen rubbed his eyes. "Not sleepy," he argued. He tried to wriggle away from her. "Want to see Mami."

"Your mother is at a party, Prince Naveen," Graciela said. "Again."

Naveen scowled. "Want to see Mami!" he repeated emphatically.

Graciela ignored the toddler's whining and got him ready for bed. It was like this every night. He would protest the indignity of his early bedtime while calling for his mother, but she never came. The princess was too busy attending parties and going to the theater to kiss her son goodnight. Instead, Graciela would hold the little prince on her lap, reading him stories and singing him lullabies, until finally he was too tired to wait for his mother any longer.

Graciela settled into the rosewood rocking chair. "No sleep!" Naveen shrieked.

"I know, I know," she soothed. "We'll stay up and wait for Mami."

"Story?" he asked.

"Which one?" she smiled. "The Frog Prince?"

"Yes!" he crowed, clapping his small hands.

"All right," she said. "But you must sit and be quiet." He settled into her lap and tucked his thumb in his mouth as she began the familiar story. "Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess who lived in a big, beautiful palace with her father…"

She was nearly at the end of the story, and Naveen had nearly fallen asleep, when the door to the nursery swung wide open. "Naveen!" Princess Mira called. "Naveen, where are you?"

The sleepy toddler roused and rubbed his wide eyes. "Mami!" he said.

The princess hurried into the nursery, her gold and green gown rustling. "There's my little one," she said, picking him up and accepting the sloppy kisses he pressed on her cheeks. Her flawless makeup smeared, but she only laughed.

Graciela dropped a curtsy. "Good evening, your highness," she said.

"Did I wake up him?" Mira asked.

"He wasn't asleep quite yet," Graciela said.

Princess Mira sat down on the cream-colored carpet with Naveen on her lap. Her silk dress pooled around her like a green lagoon. "That state dinner was so dull," she said. "I told Arturo I wanted to check on Naveen and I would be right back, but I don't think I shall!"

Small and slight, with her eyes too bright and her cheeks too pink, she looked more like a naughty child playing dress up than the crown princess of Maldonia. She laughed, and Graciela could smell the champagne on her breath. "Should I call for your lady-in-waiting?" she asked politely.

"No, no, I'm fine," she said dismissively. "I'll put the baby to bed myself. Go on, go on."

Graciela curtsied and left the nursery. But she only went as far as the playroom; she busied herself with putting away the prince's toys while she listened to the princess playing with her son. Princess Mira spoke in rapid-fire Hindustani, Naveen answered her clumsily. After all, he was surrounded by servants who spoke the Maldonian dialect of Spanish- he knew very little of his mother's language.

The nursery had been quiet for a while. Graciela closed the lid of the toybox and peeked into the room. The princess was asleep on the floor, her narrow chest heaving under the ribs of her corset. Naveen curled up against her side, his head on her shoulder and his thumb tucked in his mouth. Graciela shook her head and sent for the princess's lady-in-waiting.

She returned to find them both still fast asleep. Carefully she lifted the toddler into her arms without rousing him. Graciela hummed lightly under her breath as she laid him in his little bed and tucked his silk blankets around him.

The lady-in-waiting entered the nursery, accompanied by a royal bodyguard. The huge man picked up the tiny princess as easily as a child would pick up a doll and carried her into the hall. The lady followed, nodding at Graciela as she did. After all, this wasn't this first time this had happened.

-

_New Orleans: April, 1907_

Eudora rang the mansion's doorbell and adjusted Tiana in her arms. "I hope they're going to be all right with this," she murmured.

A petite blonde woman with round green eyes and a baby on her hip answered the door. "Can I help you?" she asked cheerfully.

"I'm Eudora Woodward, from Allbright's dress shop," she said. "Mrs. LaBouff called and said she needed some alterations done."

"Oh, I did, didn't I?" the blonde woman said. "Come in, Eudora."

Eudora stepped into the airy foyer of the mansion. "You're Mrs. LaBouff?" she said.

"Please, call me Pansy," she said, bumping the door closed with her hip. "And this sugarplum is Charlotte." Pansy smiled and held out her hand.

Eudora shook her hand, a little confused. "Pleased to meet you," she said.

"Who's this little angel?" Pansy said.

"My daughter, Tiana," Eudora said. "I hope you don't mind that I brought her. Usually a friend of mine keeps an eye on her, but-"

"Don't worry about it, sugar," Pansy said with a wave of her hand. "I know how it is with rambunctious little girls. Why, my Lottie pitches a fit if I even so much leave the room. Don't you, lamb?" She pinched Charlotte's round cheek; the little girl howled with laughter.

"How old is she?" Eudora asked.

"Just turned a year," Pansy said proudly. "Come on up, the dress is in my boudoir."

Eudora adjusted Tiana on her hip. The toddler studied her surroundings, her golden brown eyes wide. Eudora absently kissed her on the temple as Pansy opened the door to her pink and white boudoir. "Allbright's did my wedding dress when I married Eli two years ago," she said. "I just loved it. It fit so much better than the dresses my mother had made for me at that shop on Juno Street." Pansy plopped her round-cheeked daughter on the floor and opened the wardrobe. "And now that I had my little puddin', none of my dresses still fit right. I called Allbright's up and asked who did my dress in the first place, and they said it was you, so I told them to send you over and take a look at my things." Eudora shifted Tiana to one arm and touched the skirt of a yellow and white dress. "Oh, just put her down with Lottie. The two of them can play."

Eudora set Tiana down on the thick carpet. "You play nice, now," she said. Charlotte reached over and grabbed at Tiana's short curly pigtails; Tiana giggled and poked the blonde toddler in the cheek.

Pansy rifled through the wardrobe. "Frankly, most of my dresses are just too frilly," she said. "Mama always did like me to look like a princess."

"You have enough ruffles for three princesses," Eudora agreed. "You want these taken off?"

"Could you?" Pansy said. "I always hated that dress. Eli likes it, but bless the man, he'd tell me I look pretty in a potato sack." She sat down on the floor beside her daughter. "And as long as I can as I can ride in it, I don't care."

Eudora pulled out a green frock trimmed in lace frills. "You ride?" she said.

"Ever since I was a little girl growing up in Kentucky," Pansy sighed. She laid down on her stomach beside the two toddlers. "Horses are everywhere there. It's beautiful. Mama always thought it wasn't dignified, but I loved it." She sat up and rumpled her blonde curls as Eudora draped the green dress across the back of a gilded chair. "Can you fix that one too?"

"I sure can," Eudora said.

"I'm so glad," Pansy said. "And it looks like our little girls are getting along just fine. Aren't they sweet?"

Eudora looked down at her daughter. Tiana had pulled the ribbon from Charlotte's hair and was wrapping it around her little hands, laughing. "She sure is," she said.

-

-

-

**Author's Notes:**

I have a whole slew of ideas for Princess and the Frog stories, and I'm SUPER EXCITED ABOUT THEM!!

Also, this is going to be a rather long author's note. Just so you're warned.

First off, when it comes to Naveen...

I was inspired by a drawing that Isaia did on Deviantart, showing the two lines of royalty. Naveen's father seemed European, and his mother seemed Indian. So I decided that Maldonia is an island between Spain and Italy, and I decided that his mother came from an island on the coast of India. So that's how that came to be.

As for Tiana's name...as much as I love her, it annoys me that they changed her name from Maddy (which seems to fit her better and is a more period-approporiate name). But, if she's going to be named Tiana, she needs a good reason. Also, the names that James suggests are all the names that Eric suggests might be Ariel's name (going by the movie and the Broadway recording). Little inside Disney joke there...

So yeah. Here's the first chapter! I plan on writing a chapter for every year up to 1925. How do I know it's 1925? Well, in the prologue of the film, Tiana is six years old. And there's a man reading a newspaper that says "Wilson Elected." Woodrow Wilson was elected president in 1912, ergo Tiana was born in 1906. And the casting sheet for the film revealed that Tiana is nineteen and Naveen is twenty. Ergo, iana was born in 1906 and Naveen was born in 1905, and the film takes place in 1925.

Now I'm going to stop saying "ergo."

I hope you liked this! Let me know what you think!


	2. 1908

Disclaimer: Princess and the Frog belongs to Disney, not me.

-

-

-

_New Orleans: May, 1908_

"Dora?" James called. He closed the door and hung his hat on the peg. "I'm home."

"We're upstairs, honey."

He rubbed the knots at the base of his neck as he made his way slowly up the stairs. "What are y'all up to?" he asked.

Eudora sat in the old maple rocking chair with a dark green skirt spread across her -year-old Tiana played at her feet with a rag doll. "Pansy talked Eli into letting her ride in an exhibition, and she wanted a new dress for the occasion," she said. "This hem is going to kill me."

James leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I know how you hate 'em," he said. He sat down on the floor beside his daughter. "Hey, baby girl! Were you good today?"

"Lottie bit me," Tiana reported.

James looked at his wife. "She did what now?" he said.

"Tell Daddy what you did, baby," Eudora said.

"Bit her back," Tiana said, unconcerned.

"Charlotte was pitching a fit about something and bit Tiana on the arm," Eudora explained. "She didn't cry or anything. She just looked at me like 'what am I gonna do with this crazy girl?' And Pansy said go on, bite her back and give her a taste of her own medicine."

"And she did?"

"Sure did," Eudora said. "Bit Charlotte right back. That little girl was so shocked she stopped crying right that second. And the two of them went right back to playing."

James laughed. "My little girl's got spunk," he said. He picked her up and tickled her. Tiana giggled, dropping her rag doll.

"Let me use up the rest of this thread and I'll warm up your dinner," Eudora said, jabbing her needle in the thick forest green fabric.

"Don't worry about it, Dora, I can handle it," he said. "Tiana'll help me. Won't you, babycakes?"

"Iss, Daddy," she said, raising up her arms to be held. James picked her up and tossed her in the air, making her shriek with laughter.

"Oh, don't do that, James, she just had her dinner," Eudora said.

"All right, all right," he said. "Come on, Tiana. Let's go get Daddy something to eat."

He carried her downstairs and set her on the table. She watched with interest as he pulled out the plate of cornbread from the warmer and stirred the red beans and rice left of the stove.

"You hungry, babycakes?" he asked.

"Nah-uh," she said, shaking her head. Her curly pigtails bounced, and he smiled.

Eudora stomped down the stairs. "That hem is going to be the death of me, James," she said.

"Taking that long?" he said.

"I swear, I've been at that thing all day," she sighed. She picked up Tiana and sat down at the kitchen table with her daughter on her lap. "Tiana's been a little angel about it though."

"And Mrs. LaBouff doesn't mind you bringing her there?" James said.

"Pansy loves it when I bring Tiana over," she said. "She says Charlotte needs more sensible friends like our girl."

"Sensible?" James said, swallowing a bit of red beans and rice. "They're two years old."

Eudora smoothed her daughter's curls. "It's funny to see the two of them playing together," she said. "Charlotte's so bouncy and noisy, and Tiana's so calm."

"She takes after her mama," James said, squeezing his wife's knee.

"I just wish…" Eudora's voice trailed off and she glanced towards the floor.

"Wish what?" James said.

She stood up. "Nothing," she said. "Want me to get anything else for you?"

"What do you wish for, Eudora?" James pressed.

Eudora hugged Tiana. "I see Charlotte with all of her pretty dresses and her toys…and when she gets older she'll get to go to a big private school…and what does our Tiana get?" she said.

"Now, hold on just a minute, honey," James said. "Just because we're not as rich as the LaBouffs doesn't mean our girl can't have a good life."

Eudora stroked the little girl's hair. "I know, I know," she said. "I just wish things could be easier for her. She's going to have to work hard for everything."

"There's worse things than working," James said. He reached out and tugged his wife closer to him. "Our little girl's going to be just fine." Eudora smiled. James stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist. "She'll start school in a couple of years, and we'll save up enough money for her to go off to college. Of course, we'll have the restaurant by then."

"Of course," Eudora grinned. She kissed her husband on the cheek. "You've been dreaming about the restaurant since the day I met you."

"I was a bit too distracted to think about restaurants on the day I met you," James said.

"It was the Sunday school picnic," she said. "We were out in the gardens behind the church."

"You had on a lavender dress," he remembered.

"I made it just for that day," she said. "And I was so happy you noticed it."

"I noticed you, honey," James said.

Eudora smiled at her husband. "And someday our little girl will catch the eye of some lucky boy," she said.

"Not any time soon, I hope," he said.

Tiana yawned and leaned out of her mother's arms towards her father. James picked her up; she snuggled against his broad shoulder. Eudora smoothed a loose curl away from the toddler's face. "I just want to see her happy," she said.

"She will be," James said. "She will be."

-

_Maldonia: August, 1908_

Naveen opened his eyes and peeked over the edge of his blanket into the darkness of the nursery. The only light came from a small lamp on the bedside table.

He squinted. "Graciela?" he whispered.

She didn't answer. He was all alone.

Naveen pushed back the blankets and slid to the floor. The enterprising three-year-old crept towards the door. He pushed it open quietly and peeked into the muted light of the hallway.

No servants bustled about, and Graciela didn't materialize in her mysterious all-knowing way to carry him back to bed. He crept down the hall and made his way towards the ballroom.

The palace was always in upheaval over a party or ball or fancy dinner. He never got to stay up late to see them- he begged every time, and his father would only laugh and tell him he could when he was older. But he was three now- wasn't that old enough.

So every night that he was put to bed amidst the sounds of music and laughter, he would lie there, his eyes closed, waiting. When Graciela left and closed the door behind her, he would sneak out of his room and sit on the stairs high above the ballroom, listening to the music of the orchestra.

He liked to watch his pretty mother, too. She was always easy to find- right in the middle of everything, with her golden tiara glittering in her long dark curls. He could always hear her laugh above everything. She laughed all the time, her large eyes flashing brightly and her cheeks red. Sometimes his father would watch her when she laughed, but it wasn't the way Naveen watched his mother. His father always looked worried, his eyebrows knitted together and his mouth drawn down. He would pull her aside and make her sit down. She would argue playfully, but she never won. Instead, she would sit on the sidelines, sipping from a crystal goblet of water, until she could sneak back onto the floor and dance again.

Naveen scooted down the wide marble steps. He frowned. The orchestra wasn't playing. But they were always playing. He could hear voices echoing through high-ceilinged room.

"Has the doctor been sent for?"

"He should be here soon."

Naveen crept down to the landing and peered through the gilded railings of the balcony. The party guests stood against the walls, pale and wide eyed. The members of the orchestra sat in silence with their instruments clutched in their hands. The glass doors leading to the verandah stood open; the hot sea breeze blew through the room.

His mother lay in the center of the ballroom, the skirts of her pink satin ballgown spread around her like an overturned rose. His father knelt beside her with his hands wrapped around her tiny one. "Mira," he called. "_Mira_."

Naveen ran down the wide steps and ducked through the crowd, unnoticed by the party guests. His steps slowed as he approached his parents. His mother looked pale white, as if she was a doll instead of a person. "Mami?" he said.

His father turned around. "Naveen," he said. "Naveen, you shouldn't be here. Go back to bed, son."

He edged closer. "What happened to Mami?" he said.

"Your mother's heart is very sick," his father said quietly.

Naveen bent over his mother and touched his small hand to her cool cheek. "Mami," he said. "Wake up, _bella prutta_."

His father choked and picked him up. "Naveen, Mami can't wake up," he whispered.

Naveen froze, his arms wrapped around his father's neck. "Why not?" he said.

Two men dressed in white entered the ballroom, pushing a gurney. Carefully they lifted his mother, her rose-petal dress draping around her. He heard a woman cry softly. The gurney squeaked as they rolled it away.

Naveen struggled out of his father's grasp. "Don't take her," he said. His voice echoed in the marble ballroom, high and clear. "Wake up my mami."

His father knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around him. "Mami is in heaven," he whispered.

Naveen blinked. "Get her back," he said.

"No one can bring her back," his father said. "She's dancing in heaven with the angels now."

Naveen stared at the disappearing men in white as they rolled his mother away. Confused, he buried his face in the crook of his father's neck and covered his ears against the sounds of weeping.

-

-

-

**Author's Notes:**

First off...WHEW! I'm glad you guys are letting me know that you like this story! I hope you still like it after this chapter...

Second, let me explain about Naveen's mother. When I was planning out this story (and writing out the timeline), I started wondering why there's a fourteen-year difference between Naveen and his little brother. The first explanation that came to mind was that it was his father's second wife. And that made me wonder about what would have happened if Naveen's mother died when he was little. Then I started developing Mira, and everything fell into place.

The backstory to all this is that Mira was a young and rather flighty girl who just wanted to have fun and go to parties, but she had a heart condition that left first her parents and then her husband concerned about her health. Basically she burned out at a young age and died of heart failure.

Sheesh, am I angsty or what?

I do know that I want to adopt little Naveen. Too cute!

Also, I second Eudora's sentiments- I have a side business sewing, and I HATE doing hand hems.

I hope you like the story so far! Let me know what you think!


	3. 1909

Disclaimer: Princess and the Frog belongs to Disney, not me.

-

-

-

_Maldonia: July of 1909_

Naveen stood very still as Graciela buttoned the shiny gold buttons on the front of his best jacket. "You look just like your papa," she said, smiling absently as she tied the bright blue sash around his waist.

"Really?" he said, twisting around to catch his reflection in the mirror.

"Really," she said. She turned him back around and adjusted the hem of his white satin jacket. "Just like your papa, only smaller."

He frowned. "When will I be bigger?" he asked.

"You'll be bigger next year," she promised.

"As big as Papa?"

"Not quite." She crossed to the dresser, her long striped dress swishing against the floor, and picked up a black velvet box. "Now, hold quite still, your highness."

He watched, wide-eyed, as Graciela opened the box. A small gold crown glinted against the dark velvet depths. "Your papa wore this when he was a little boy," she said. "And your grandfather too."

"But my grandfather is in heaven with Mami," he corrected.

"Yes, you're right," she said. She set the crown carefully on his head. He wriggled with excitement. "Hold still." Graciela brushed a dark silky curl out of his eyes.

"Can I see?" he asked eagerly.

She turned him towards the mirror. He stared at his reflection- his wide bright eyes, the shininess of his best clothes, the unfamiliar gold crown. "You're the crown prince now," she said.

He turned around. "But I'm still Naveen, yes?" he said, wrinkling his nose in concern.

"You will always be Naveen," she reassured him. She knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "But for your people, you are their crown prince. Someday when you're a grown up, you will be the king."

He placed his small hand on the mirror. "But that's not until I'm bigger?"

"You will be very, very big when you become king," Graciela assured him. She stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "We should go, your highness. Your father is waiting for you."

Naveen followed the young maid down the bright, airy hallways of the palace. The servants that usually nodded to him politely now stopped their chores to bow as he passed by. Naveen tucked his hand into Graciela's. She held his small fingers in her cool light grip as they walked down the hall.

"Why are they bowing to me?" he asked.

"Because someday you will rule them," she said.

A pretty maid halted as she put fresh flowers into a polished glass vase and dropped a curtsy. He held his chin high and nodded to her, as he had seen his papa do. The maid giggled.

Graciela tugged on his hand to hurry him down the hallway. "Come along, your highness," she said. "Or you'll miss your father's coronation."

He followed her, uncharacteristically silent as he thought hard. "Graciela?" he said.

"Yes, your highness?" she said.

"What does a crown prince _do_?" he asked.

Her eyes twinkled, as if she wanted to laugh but didn't want to do so out loud. "A crown prince learns what it means to become a king," she said. "You will go to school and become very smart, and learn the history of our people so that you can lead us wisely when you are a grown up."

He wrinkled his nose. "I don't like learning," he said.

"You like learning. You don't like school," she corrected.

She led him to a set of double doors draped with velvet curtains and guarded by two large men. At the sight of the young prince they nodded, clicking the heels of their shiny black boots together, and moved to let him pass.

Naveen stared at the curtains, then back at his nanny. "Graci?" he said.

"Go on, your highness," she urged gently.

He pushed the curtains aside and tiptoed through the doors. His father stood on a high balcony dressed in a very fine suit, his broad chest glimmering with golden medals. He wore the large crown that he remembered his grandfather wearing, and he stood by the balustrade, waving to the people below.

Naveen approached his father and tugged on his belt. "Papa?" he said.

His father looked down at him, laughing. "My son!" he said. He picked Naveen up easily. "Wave to your people, son."  
At first the sight of the ground so far away made him nervous, but he saw the crowd below. Hundreds of people, dressed in their finest clothes, shouted his name. Naveen waved back- shyly at first, then bolder.

_ "Long live King Arturo!" _the crowd shouted, their combined voices echoed through the piazza. "_Long live Prince Naveen!"_

Naveen waved until his arm ached, his small chest filling with pride as he surveyed the kingdom that his father ruled, and that would someday be his.

-

-

-

_New Orleans: September, 1909_

The sprawling house, usually so warm and inviting, seemed as cold and forlorn as a mausoleum despite the lights blaring in every window. The other mansions on the peaceful street stood dark and sleepy; the LaBouff house blazed with feverish activity. Eudora hurried to the front door and knocked several times in quick succession.

A young maid, her eyes red-rimmed, answered the door. "Mrs. Woodward," she said. "She's been asking for you. Come right on up."  
Eudora followed the redheaded maid through the bright, silent halls. "How is she?" she asked.

"Not well at all, Mrs. Woodward," the maid said. "She's not…the doctor says it won't be much longer." She knocked on the bedroom door.

Eli LaBouff answered. The usually jovial, ruddy-faced man was pale and unsmiling. "Eudora," he said. "You'd better hurry in."

Eudora approached the bed. "Pansy?" she whispered.

The young woman lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her blonde hair streamed around her and covered the pillow. She had gone completely white. "Come on up," she said in a raspy voice. "I'm glad Eli called you."

Eudora sat gingerly beside her. "What happened?" she said.

Pansy continued to stare at the ceiling, her round green eyes blank. "I got thrown," she said. "Something spooked Gray when I got up to that last hurdle, and I got thrown. And now…"

"Pansy, don't say it," Eli said.

She twisted her lips ruefully. "I'm not stupid," she said. "I know what's going on."

Eudora took the younger woman's hand. "What can I do?" she asked.

Pansy sighed, suddenly looking more childlike and frail than usual. "Look after Lottie for me?" she said. "She's going to need a mama."

Eudora swallowed the lump in her throat. "Are you sure you want me to-"

"Don't even say it," Pansy said, squeezing Eudora's fingers. "Of course I want you to keep an eye on her. Eli's a good man, but he's going to spoil her something dreadful." Her green eyes glimmered. "She'll need a mama to fix all her little girl hurts and tell all of her boy troubles to and help her grow up to be a nice young woman. And nobody can do that better than you, Eudora."

"Pansy, I don't know if-"

"Don't be silly," she sighed. "Everything will turn out fine in the end."

The redheaded maid stood in the doorway and cleared her throat. "Mister Eli," she said. "Miss Lottie's awake and…and wants to see her mother."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Eli said softly.

Pansy blinked away the tears that clustered on her long eyelashes. "Bring her in," she said. "Let me see my little girl."

The maid carried Charlotte to her mother's bedside. "Mama!" she chirped, her blonde curls tousled from sleep.

Pansy smiled at her. "What are you doin' up, sunshine?" she said. "Silly girls like you ought to be asleep."

Eudora stood up. "I need to get home," she choked.

Pansy looked at her over her daughter's head, her smile slowly fading. "Give Tia a kiss for me," she said.

"I will," she whispered.

Charlotte plunked down beside her mother, babbling happily- the only bit of joy in the middle of the gray fog that filled the house. "Goodbye, Eudora," Pansy said quietly.

"Goodbye, Pansy," Eudora said.

She rode the trolley home in dazed silence. Her little house was silent- both her husband and daughter slept peacefully. She took Tiana out of her bed and carried her to the one she shared with James, and tucked the sleeping girl in between them. She slept little that night, with one hand on her husband's shoulder and the other on her daughter's hand.

The errand boy arrived from the LaBouff's house shortly before she left for work, bringing the news she had been waiting for all night. Pansy was dead.

-

-

-

**Author's Notes:**

And with that terribly depressing chapter, I've returned!

I got married last month and moved in with the hubster, but now we're all settled and I have time to write again! I hope you enjoyed it...let me know what you think!


	4. 1910

Disclaimer: Princess and the Frog belongs to Disney, not me.

-

-

-

_Maldonia: August of 1910_

"I don't want to go!" he objected.

Arturo shuffled through a stack of papers. "Naveen, you must," he said absently. "Every prince of Maldonia has studied abroad."

Naveen hunkered down in the slippery leather chair in his papa's royal office. "I don't want to go," he repeated. "I want to stay here, with you and Graciela and Dominic. I like lessons with Dominic."

"You may like having lessons with Dominic, but he cannot teach you how to become a king," Arturo explained patiently. "The academy in England is for wealthy little boys and girls who will grow up to be leaders. It will be a good environment for you."

"But this is a good en-vir-ment for me," Naveen said, smiling brightly. "And so I shall stay here with Graciela and Dominic. But thank you anyways."

He slipped off the chair. His father grasped him firmly by the collar. "That was a good try," Arturo said, smiling in spite of himself. "But you are going to attend Sir Myles Cross Academy, whether you like it or not."

"I like it not," Naveen scowled.

Arturo set him down on the edge of his desk and sat down in the leather chair, eye level with his son. "Naveen," he said kindly. "The palace is not a good place for you."

"But I have lived here for five years," the little prince objected, holding up a small hand to demonstrate. "I like it very much."

"There are no other little children here," Arturo explained. "You don't have any playmates. If you go away to school, there will be plenty of other children for you to play with."

"I am fine," Naveen shrugged. "I can play with Graciela."

"You are getting too older for a nursemaid," Arturo said. "Graciela took care of you when you were a baby, but now that you are growing up to be a young man, you don't need her."

"Of course I need her!" he said.

Arturo shook his head. "Every crown prince of Maldonia has put his babyhood behind him and gone away to school," he said. "I did too. That is why I am a good king now, because I went away and learned everything I needed to know to become grown up and wise."

Naveen folded his arms and scowled. "I do not want to become grown up and wise," he said. "I am very happy now."

"I cannot continue to argue with you, Naveen," Arturo said. "I am your father and your king, and you must obey me, whether you like it or not.."

"I don't want to go!" he argued.

Arturo dipped a pen in an inkewell. "It is not up for discussion," he said, gently but firmly. "Your ship for England leaves next week. I have already engaged a new servant to replace Graciela. He's English."

"I don't like to speak English," Naveen protested.

"The king of Maldonia must speak several languages," Arturo said. "Our island is in the middle of several countries, so you must be able to speak French, Spanish, and English, besides Italian."

"That is too many languages," Naveen said, shaking his head.

"Lawrence will be able to help you master English," Arturo said. "When you're older, I'll send you on a tour of Europe so you can study further."

"And where will Graciela and Dominic be?" Naveen asked.

"They will stay here," Arturo said calmly. "You will see them when you come home on holidays."

Naveen scowled, but his father continued to write. He knew from experience that the discussion was over. He didn't want to leave, but there would be no dissuading his father.

_October of 1910_

"Daddy, can I help?" Tiana begged. "Can't I help just a little bit?"

"Tiana, honey, you're just too little," her mother said as she stitched lace around the collar of a red dress. "You can help Daddy when you're bigger."

James stirred the contents of the gumbo pot. "Now, Eudora, I reckon she can give me a hand," he said. "Babycakes, grab me that bowl of shrimp off the table for me, will you?"

The eager four-year-old picked up the chipped yellow bowl carefully and carried it over to her father. "Here, Daddy," she chirped.

"Thank you, baby," he said. He picked her up. "Now pour that into the gumbo as careful as you can."

She did so, the pale shrimp tumbling into the bubbling stew. "Can I stir it?" she said.

"Sure," he said, handing her the handle of the wooden spoon. She gripped it with two hands and dragged it through the thick gumbo. "Now, do you know why we wait so late to put the shrimp in?"

"Nah-uh," she said, still stirring.

"If we put it in too early, they'll get all soft and mushy," James explained. "And nobody likes eating squishy shrimp."

She wrinkled her nose. "Ew, Daddy," she said.

"Keep stirring, baby," he encouraged. "Don't let stick to the bottom. If it sticks, it burns."

She kept going, her short arms straining to keep going. "Is it almost done?" she asked.

"You tell me," he grinned. "Give it a taste." Tiana raised the wooden spoon. "Careful, it's hot."

She sipped it carefully. "It's good," she said warily. "But I don't know if it's done."

James snapped his fingers. "I know what it's missing," he said. He set her down on the floor, the wooden spoon still in her hand, and rummaged through the little pantry. "Aha!" He pulled out a little red bottle. "This is exactly what we need."

"Can I taste that too?" Tiana asked.

He laughed. "You can, but it'll burn your little tongue," he said. "Tabasco doesn't taste very good all by itself, but when you mix it in with something else, it can change the whole thing."

He uncapped the bottle and handed it to his daughter. "Hold onto it tight," he said as he picked her up again. "Now, Tiana, you just give that a little shake."

Tiana dripped a little Tabasco into the gumbo pot, cocked her head, frowned, and shook in a little more. "I think that's good," she said.

James gave it a quick stir and tasted it. "I think you're right," he said. "That's pretty delicious."

"Did you hear that, Mama?" Tiana said.

"I did, baby," Eudora smiled. "Now go wash up." She set down the red dress as her daughter ran off.

"She got that just right," James said as he tasted the gumbo. "Maybe when I've got my restaurant up and running she'll want to help out."

"You and your restaurant," Eudora smiled, wrapping her arms around her husband's waist.

He patted her hands. "We'll have it someday," he said. "Someday we'll buy up that old sugar mill, fix it up, and have ourselves the best restaurant in New Orleans."

"Someday," she echoed.

-

-

-

**Author's Notes:**

Gah, little Naveen just gets cuter...

It's a short chapter, but hopefully the next one will be better. Let me know what you think!


End file.
